


Once, warming up

by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)



Series: Kink Bingo [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd/pseuds/Gorgeous%20Nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur likes an easy routine.  Eames prefers a little more effort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once, warming up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "humiliation (in public)" square on my [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) [card](http://firmament.dreamwidth.org/26793.html). Also on [Dreamwidth](http://firmament.dreamwidth.org/28187.html). More author's notes [here](http://gorgeousnerd.dreamwidth.org/153745.html).

The first moment they got alone in the workshop after Cobb assembled the team, Arthur straddled Eames on one of the lawn chairs and loosened his tie. Eames was hard in an instance.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up and roll over," Arthur said. He stood long enough for Eames to flip into a kneeling position and slip his trousers down.

It was always the same, Eames mused, when Arthur was in control. Bit of cock teasing, a nibble at the back of his neck, the fingers of one hand dug into his shoulder while Arthur slipped a lubed finger of the other hand inside. Easy to call, but Eames was so used to the routine that he nearly came thinking about it.

And the frustration he felt when he knew Arthur would never break pattern. God, it was marvelous. By the time Arthur actually sunk his dick in his ass, his jaw was creaking.

"Tell me you like it," Arthur said, grunting with effort as he thrusted.

"Yes," Eames moaned, but he hated this script, and Arthur knew it.

Arthur came first, but the minute Eames let a growl of impatience escape his lips, he shuddered and spent into his right hand. Arthur pulled out, tossed the used condom in the trash, and sank onto his lawn chair. Eames wiped his hand on a handkerchief and settled back.

"Haven't changed, I see," Eames said.

Arthur gave him a lopsided smile. "Don't hide in Mombasa so long next time."

-

It was the only alone time they had during the Fischer job. Which was a shame, but every time Eames had to beat off quickly in a bathroom for release, he pictured what they'd do next. It was his turn, after all. And unlike Arthur, he had a pretty vivid imagination.

Eames whispered the basics of the idea in Arthur's ear when they'd landed in Los Angeles, after they walked out of baggage claim. Arthur's face lit up, but he kept from commenting aloud until they climbed into a cab together.

"You," Arthur said, running the back of his index finger down buttons of Eames's shirt, "are incorrigible."

Pouncing Arthur right then and there crossed Eames's mind, cabbie be damned, but the sting of shame following the thought kept him back. For now. "That word has quite a few syllables, darling."

"But we can't use the machine. The sedative needs time to wear off first."

Eames smirked. "I suppose you could take a turn or two first."

"You don't mind?"

"I can build up credit."

So when they reached the ultra swank hotel room - Arthur always preferred the best, particularly when his take was so robust - Eames and Arthur took a leisurely shower and tested out the bed a couple times. It felt amazing, of course, but every second Arthur remained in control, Eames could feel his tension building higher and higher.

When they'd passed the eight-hour mark, Arthur said, "Let's do it."

He couldn't stick the needle in Eames's arm fast enough.

-

Eames liked to dream in darkness, in dingy pubs with hovering smoke, or sultry clubs. Even though he picked an open courtyard this time, with patterned brick and a fountain in the middle, it was still nighttime, and the area was illuminated by soft lamps along the edges.

Arthur's projections, men and women of various ages, roamed the area. They wore suits of various kinds, but the colors went together, dark colors with light ties in Windsor knots. Looked like a bloody wedding, but when Arthur walked up, his light grey suit golden in the lamp light, Eames knew it was the right choice.

"Awfully formal, aren't they?" Arthur said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't be the same if they looked like me, would it?"

"I guess not."

Eames crossed his arms. "Well?"

"Take off your clothes." The sentence had no hint of command, and by the smirk on Arthur's face, he knew it.

"No," Eames said.

"Off. Now."

"No."

It was their habit. Once, warming up. Twice, last chance. But the third time…

Arthur wrapped Eames's tie around his hand. Eames hadn't noticed what he was wearing before, but he could see the tie was the grey of Arthur's suit.

The projections stopped chatting, and their eyes snapped to Eames. He felt their gazes as if they could see nothing but him, which was true. They were part of Arthur, and Arthur himself scowled at Eames with perfect concentration.

"You like this, don't you," Arthur hissed. "Where everyone can see you."

"No." Of course he did. But it was part of the game, and Eames always played his parts.

"Turn around. Look at them."

Eames turned. All those people, stony faced, not revealing anything. They just _watched_. It made his stomach churn, and at the same time, he could feel his trousers grow tight.

Arthur snaked an arm around Eames's torso and grabbed hold of his crotch. Eames gasped quietly, but he wouldn't give Arthur the satisfaction of a more visible reaction. Yet.

"You're enjoying this."

"You would know," Eames said, only a little breathy. But he did push against Arthur's hand the slightest bit, and let his eyelids flutter.

"Arms up," Arthur snapped.

Eames obeyed, and Arthur slipped off Eames's jacket and let it fall to the ground.

"Careful now," Eames said. "I don't want to press all this later."

Arthur grabbed at the edges of Eames's waistcoat and tugged. The fabric groaned and the buttons snapped, and the projections took several steps forward. Which meant Eames had to dial back the intensity a little, or the end of the dream be very different than he wanted.

"Allow me," Eames said, and unbuckled his belt and let his trousers drop. As he stepped out of them, the projections froze, but kept their eyes on him. He shivered, and felt their gaze almost like fingers on his skin. God, they could see _everything_.

Arthur lightly slapped Eames's bare thigh below the edge of his boxer-briefs. Enough to make noise, not enough to hurt. "I didn't say you could do that."

"As I recall," Eames said, even as his cheeks burned slightly, "you told me to take my clothes off."

"That was before you didn't listen."

"Do you like it when I don't listen?" Eames whispered, tilting his head against Arthur's. "In front of all these people?"

"Shut up." Arthur's voice was tight, rough.

Eames turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt. Arthur was close enough to him for their noses to almost touch, but there was enough distance for Eames to see Arthur's erection through his clothes. And, at some point, Arthur had taken off his jacket and waistcoat, so he unbuttoned his sleeves without anything in the way.

"Make me," Eames said.

Arthur grabbed the back of his head and brought their lips together roughly. Eames didn't react for a moment - and it was hard - but he pulled back with a smile before long.

"You'll have to do better than that."

Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pushed. It wasn't too hard, but Eames dropped to his knees because it suited his purposes.

As Arthur undid the latch of his zipper, Eames grinned. "I'm not going to suck you off because you tell me to."

Oh, now he could see the faintest blush on Arthur's cheeks. "You will."

"I won't."

Arthur shoved him back. It was lucky Eames's clothes laid on the ground, or the brick would've hurt quite a bit. As it was, the edge of his belt caught him in his back, and it stung enough for him to make him catch his teeth.

But Arthur slid down his boxer-briefs, and he took hold of Eames's cock with a rough grip, and Eames tensed. Arthur stroked once, nice and long.

"That's it," Eames muttered, closing his eyes. "Much better."

Arthur grabbed his jaw. "Look at me, dammit."

Eames did, and noticed furious tears had spilled down Arthur's cheeks in two small lines. But Eames glanced beyond him, and saw the projections formed a circle. Their lips were parted, as if they were breathing hard. Many of them were even flushed.

Even as pleasure made him tremble, he swallowed hard. He was paying a price to make Arthur feel this.

And it was _so_ worth it.

"Please," Eames said.

Arthur understood what he meant, and even as he gave a wary eye to the projections only a couple feet from his shoulders, he shook his head and dove his head down. Gently, oh-so-gently, his lips encircled Eames's cock, and his tongue lapped over the top.

"Don't take too long," Eames said around a gasp or two. "They're watching every second."

Tears dripped onto Eames's stomach as Arthur's mouth went up and down, slow at first, but faster and faster. Eames put a hand in Arthur's hair to urge him on, but Arthur drew back momentarily. Eames watched as Arthur reached in his open pants and stroked.

Eames smirked. "My, my. You have no restraint, do you? In public?"

Arthur growled a little - apparently, Eames had hit the mark - and took Eames's cock into his mouth again. His mouth went in counter rhythm with his hand, and Eames felt himself reaching climax, knowing Arthur enjoyed this as much as he did.

"Arthur," he said. "Don't stop, don't--"

But Arthur stiffened and moaned around Eames's cock, and just like that, he was gone.

Eames was alone in the courtyard.

He fell backward with a groan of amused frustration. "You little bastard!"

Luckily, before he could reach down to finish himself off, he felt a touch, as if Arthur was still there, stroking him with some urgency.

"That's the ticket," Eames said. And it was only a minute more before he jerked and shot into the air.

-

He opened his eyes as Arthur was washing his hands in the bathroom.

"Couldn't wait five seconds for me, could you?" Eames asked. He felt boneless, and lax.

Arthur came out, grinning. He was completely starkers, which made sense; just because you came in a dream didn't make the physical reaction any less present. Or messy.

"Sorry," he said. "How'd you know?"

"About what?"

"Using the projections. I've never come so hard in my life."

Eames gave a toothy grin. "That's why I'm the forger, and you're the stick-in-the-mud."

Arthur gave his shoulder a little playful shove. "I'll get you back next time."

Eames put his hands behind his head. If that's what Arthur thought, he had a big lesson coming.

And oh, wouldn't Eames love to play teacher.


End file.
